Lux Aeterna
by gutter.xromance
Summary: Music has always had the power to affect people, to move them to the depths of their hearts and souls. King Edmund just wasn't ready for how much one common composer's music was going to affect him. -EdmundOC-
1. I

**A/N - This is not a new story. This is the rewrite - more info at the bottom of the page.**

* * *

**Lux Aeterna**

**- I - **

Auren knocked on the door to the her dressing room before he let himself in and felt quite suddenly as if he had stepped into a florist's shop for all the vases of flowers that were placed throughout the room. He admired them as he stepped into the room brushing his thumb delicately on soft petals; tulips here, lavender there, blue irises peeking out from a bouquet of calla lilies, roses of every color. They were all beautiful, sent to the composer in shows of admiration, and some in sympathy for the recent loss of her father.

He found Variel seated at the vanity, turned away from him, but the mirror's reflection showed that her attention was on the small card in her hand, while the other was lazily circling the rim of a wine glass. Auren sighed upon seeing the wine glass. It was a recently developed habit of Variel's, the wine; what she used to dull the pain of her father's passing, and Auren understood, really he did, but he worried for his best friend. Too many times in the past few weeks had he gone to her home to find her asleep before her fireplace with an empty bottle of wine at her head.

She wasn't ready yet and months ago, before the two of them ventured from their home island to Cair Paravel, it would have surprised Auren, but not now. While the time the two friends spent at Cair Paravel had not changed Auren, it had changed Variel and not necessarily for the better. She had fallen in love and it had shaken her confidence in just about everything.

… No, that was not entirely true. It was not the fact that she had fallen in love with Edmund, it was the way they parted ways. There was shouting and tears – Auren had never seen Variel so _angry_ in all their years of friendship. So it did not surprise Auren to find Variel sitting at the vanity in her undergarments, hair and make-up not yet done – no doubt she had sent Maeve on some ridiculous errand to further stall the start of the concert. As much as Variel _wanted_ this concert to take place, she did not want to be _here_.

"He sent you flowers?" Auren wondered, motioning to the rather large vase of orchids atop the vanity: her favorite.

She snorted and sat back in the chair. "Of course he sent me flowers," she replied flatly, and turned the card over between her long fingers.

"Did that card come with it?"

Variel didn't answer, just held the card out to him which Auren took. There was nothing fancy about the card, no embellishments or decorations as the two of them had come to expect from King Edmund. He was not one for theatrics, or superfluities; he was simple and to the point. And he had only written one word on the card: _Please_.

"_Please?_ Please, what?"

"He wants to see me after the concert," Variel answered with a sigh as she stood and moved to the gauzy black dress hung on the wall.

"Are you going to let him?"

Variel breathed out her reply: "… I… don't know."

"Variel…"

She spun to face him, her expression suddenly contorted. "I don't know if I_ can,_ Auren! I have not spoken to him in weeks, I never even read all the letters he sent and with the way I left…" Variel trailed off and dragged a hand through her unkempt hair.

"You were angry – "

"Damn right I was angry!" Variel snapped, whirling back around and Auren could see the angry tears in the corners of her bright eyes. "He had the audacity to think my leaving had anything to do with that… _thing! _And he would not give me room to speak to tell him that Father had fallen ill until I screamed it in his face, and then he was not even man enough to apologize to me! So you're damn right I was angry, I am _still_ angry!"

Variel pressed her hand to her forehead and took several deep steadying breaths, and Auren let her collect her emotions as he moved to the dress and took it from the hook on the wall. "Let Edmund see you after the concert," he stated gently, as he turned back to face her.

"Why?" she breathed into the silence that settled over the room.

Auren felt himself smile at her, this beautiful, tortured creature that was his best friend. "Because you love him."

Variel's eyes drifted to the floor beneath her feet and the quiet sob she released nearly broke his heart. If the room had not been so eerily quiet, Auren might have thought he imagined it when she confessed, "I know."

**-(E & V)-**

Edmund shifted uncomfortably in his seat as his eyes roamed around the theater. He remembered the last time he was here with her: the theater dusty with disuse, the smell in the air that reminded him of passing time and things long forgotten. Mostly, Edmund remembered _her_, wrapped in his arms, her mouth warm and yielding under his. He remembered the texture of her hair between his fingers, and the way the flames of the lamps illuminated her skin. The unsteady beat of his heart and the cadence of her breath against his neck was still a pleasant nightmare that haunted his nights.

The theater he sat in now was nearly unrecognizable from the last time he was here. People, common and noble alike were dressed in their best as they filed into the rows and took their seats. He could see people reading over the programs Lucy had painstakingly helped design, knowing his younger sister had hoped to usher in a renaissance for this theater so it would no longer sit abandoned and disused. On the stage, the orchestra organized their music and warmed up their instruments, the displaced and clashing sounds echoing above the chatter.

"Is she really here?" Edmund asked any one of his siblings who would reply.

Lucy rolled her eyes with a sad sort of smile on her face. "Of course she's here Ed, she's the composer."

"And stop squirming would you?" Susan added impatiently.

He couldn't help it. Edmund was nervous about seeing Variel again considering the last time they had spoken had not been… pleasant. Full of himself as ever, Edmund had thought Variel's sudden departure from Cair had been because of him and he had confronted her because he had not been given all the details. Even at the time Edmund knew he was being an ass, but the thought of Variel leaving had thrown his emotions into a tumult he had never experienced.

_HOW DARE YOU! _

In his head, Edmund could still hear it clear as day. He could still perfectly envision the pale rage on her face as Variel put him in his place, speaking to him in a manner no one had ever dared. She did not hit him as she probably should have, but her words had found their mark, each scathing comment as sharp as a dagger's blade. Edmund should have expected her reaction because she always gave tit for tat, bounced back when pushed, did not give when pulled. Variel was not going to accept Edmund speaking to her the way he had – she respected herself too much. And when she left, Edmund immediately felt bereft of her presence.

So it had come as no surprise to Edmund that all of his attempts at communication with the composer over the last few weeks went unanswered. The card he had sent with the vase of orchids was his last ditch effort. After the concert, Edmund would go to her dressing room and he would humble himself before her if she would have him. And if Variel would not… well, that wasn't a train of thought Edmund wanted to entertain.

Edmund scowled at his elder sister, quickly vanishing the expression as he remembered that Peter was just on Susan's other side. But his elder brother had not scolded him as he usually would, the High King had his attentions elsewhere, looking around the theater with blatant awe on his face. "Pete?

Peter blinked and refocused his attention. "What?"

"See anything interesting?" Edmund chuckled.

"It's just, after we had to reschedule the concert I didn't think many people would still want to attend, but we've nearly got a full house," Peter said.

"Variel's reputation precedes her. Many of these people were in attendance for my birthday celebration and the piece she prepared for it," Susan answered, "and I'm sure that Lucy being her benefactor has a lot to do with it as well."

"Shh!" Lucy hissed abruptly.

As if waiting for Lucy's cue, the house lights flickered twice warning the theatre goers to take their seats. Edmund turned his attention to the stage when he heard footsteps echoing through the now quiet theatre. Standing before the orchestra at rest was a tall young man dressed impeccably from head to toe and he was addressing the audience, welcoming them to the theatre and Edmund was almost positive that it was Auren, Variel's best friend.

When the young man turned to the balcony where Edmund and his siblings sat, the King wondered how he couldn't have recognized him. Of course it was Auren, who else would Variel want to introduce her but the person who knew her the best?

"... Your Majesties… Welcome," he said with a bow. Standing to his proper height, Auren turned and readdressed the audience: "She is going to throttle me for dragging this out, but I don't think I would be doing Variel's introduction justice if I just presented her and was done with it…" a ripple of chuckles moved through the audience before he was allowed to continue. "That being said… I don't know a single person in this world who is more dedicated to what they love than Variel, I have seen her sleepless and erratic because she needed to get the music out of her skin and on to parchment; I have seen her deal with everything the world has ever thrown at her through and with music. She sees the world differently than you or I, and I know that my life would be lessened if I didn't have her in it."

Auren took a deep breath and cleared his throat before continuing. "Variel will be baring her soul to you tonight, a theatre full of virtual strangers, sharing with you the way she sees the world. She has poured her entire being into the pieces she has prepared, some of them belonging to her father, Andreas Ballesteros, who, tragically, is no longer with us… And I could stand here for hours and sing Variel's praises, but I think I've rambled on enough for now. So without further ado… it is my honor and greatest pleasure to return a favor to Variel and present to you tonight a musical experience unlike any that you have ever heard…"

Auren trailed off and an excited murmur ran through the audience, heightening their anticipation about being introduced to the composer. And as the audience murmured and whispered it was difficult not to see the smirk that curved Auren's mouth.

"... Please, allow me to introduce to you, my best friend and a woman I hold with the highest regard: the beautiful, Variel Ballesteros!"

Auren made an elaborate sweeping motion with his hand to his right and out she came looking elegant in a gauzy ebony dress. The dress was long-sleeved but sloped off her narrow shoulders, it swirled around her feet as she walked and dipped low in the back revealing some of her sun-kissed skin. She kept her eyes only on Auren as she walked, floated, across the stage in front of the orchestra. And suddenly, the theatre was filled with the quiet murmuring of the audience as they watched her.

"Urgh," Edmund growled. "She's wearing black."

"Ed, you're being ridiculous, she looks beautiful," Lucy replied, almost in a sigh.

A wistful look overcame Edmund's face, staring at Variel as she hugged Auren tightly, saying something to him that Edmund couldn't read on her lips. Auren kissed her forehead before he left the stage, allowing Variel to bow to the audience. He hated her in dark colors. Though he was sure that none but him would notice, the color paled her face and despite the make-up he knew was on her face Edmund could still see the slight circles shadowing her eyes.

After bowing to the audience, Variel turned to the royal box and bowed low to each King and Queen in turn. Edmund held in the urge to scowl and tell her not to bow to him like he had so many times before. As Variel raised herself to stand straight, her eyes met with Edmund's a moment longer than either of them anticipated. In that moment he saw her almost break, but as Edmund gripped the arms of his chair, ready in an instant to go to her, she blinked her eyes away from him and turned back to the orchestra.

All four Kings and Queens adjusted their positions in their seats as Variel prepared the orchestra. The musicians raised their instruments as she raised her hands and began to count them in. The song began, and it was beautiful, mellow. It reminded Edmund of a spring day overcome by thunder clouds. The notes rang out in the higher registers like glass wind chimes in the breeze, tempered by a dramatic bass line.

"This is one of her father's scores," Lucy whispered, loud enough that her siblings heard her.

"How can you tell?" Susan wondered.

"I can tell the difference between her scores and his; this is one of his. It doesn't have the same… sadness to it," the young girl replied. "Variel's pieces are heavier, darker almost."

"Interesting..." Edmund mumbled to himself. He had never noticed.

The concert went on, each song just as beautiful as the last and with Lucy telling them which pieces were written by Variel herself and which were written by her father, halfway through the show the elder Pevensies had figured out how to discern which pieces belonged to which composer. Variel wrote her scores from her emotions, so her pieces were tumultuous and dramatic most of the time. They were the pieces of a young woman's life, telling stories of dreams she possessed, and the whirlwind of emotions coursing through her. Her father's were subtle, slow sorts of songs possessing a nostalgic melancholy that had Susan and Lucy sighing and awing. They were the pieces of an aging man remembering the times when he was still young enough for adventure when everything was still new and exciting.

Edmund was nearly breathless as he watched Variel. The music changed her. It chased away the paleness of her cheeks, the haunted look in her eyes and Edmund had almost forgotten that she was dressed in black for the flush across her cheeks and the beads of sweat illuminated on her collarbones. And it seemed to Edmund that the orchestra was not playing from their scores at all, they watched Variel, watched the music move through her and they responded accordingly, without thought.

She was…magnificent.

Close to the end of the program, Variel ended a song and turned to the audience to bow, then motioned to the orchestra. She turned her back on the audience and raised her hands, ready to begin one of the final songs of the night, but Edmund surprised no one more than himself when he rose from his chair.

"Wait!"

Variel's arms dropped to her side as if they were made of lead and her body had gone suddenly rigid. She turned stiffly, her eyes burning in an icy glare as she raised them to the royal box where Edmund was leaning against the railing. She bowed slightly as she addressed him, "Yes, Your Majesty?"

He looked at her down the bridge of his nose; bent forward with her hands folded over her knees - a picture of the perfect supplicant. Edmund waited until she raised her eyes again, unsurprised to see the juxtaposition of the fire and ice behind them. But they were just as he remembered them - fathomless, a thousand thoughts swirling through them.

"Play something... different," he ordered.

She quirked a slim eyebrow. "Different, my Lord?"

"Ed!" Peter hissed. "Sit back down!"

Edmund disregarded Peter's command and continued to address Variel. He nodded. "Yes, different. Tell us a different story with your music, something... epic."

Variel's eyes flashed dangerously at his request and he saw her teeth clench behind her lips. The audience seemed to hold their breath all of a sudden, watching this stand-off between the composer and a King. At this point no one seemed sure who would give in from King Edmund's quirked eyebrow daring her to disagree, or Variel's clenched jaw, unsure of whether to decline.

Through clenched teeth, Variel managed, "If it would please Your Highness..."

Edmund nodded once. "It would, very much so."

Variel diverted her eyes for moment, looking to either side of her before glancing back up at Edmund. "Very well, _my King_," she purred, sugary sweet. Edmund would have been the only one able to pick up the venom hidden in her tone.

She turned back the orchestra and Edmund, satisfied that she would comply with his request took his seat. "Well done, Ed, you haven't seen the girl in weeks and now you make her angry," Susan reprimanded him.

Edmund shook her off and focused on Variel so he could hear the title of the song when she announced it. The murmuring of the audience once again reigned in the atmosphere of the theater as Variel shuffled through the folder on her maestro's stand. A frustrated blush had risen to her cheeks and Edmund could see the tension she was holding in the rigidity of her shoulders and the sudden agitation of her movements.

Finally, Variel spread the pieces of parchment on her stand and lifted her head. "_Lux Aeterna_," she announced clearly, no sign of the frustration she may have been feeling tingeing her words.

For a moment none of the orchestra members moved, but they cast unsure glances at one another. Variel nodded slowly and it was not long before the members of the orchestra were also shuffling through their own folders. When they finished, Variel gave another nod of her head signaling them to raise their instruments.

And Edmund held his breath.

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**As I said up top, this is not a new story. This is a rewrite. Four years ago this was the first story I posted under this account and like stories do, it fell to the wayside. When I finally decided to pick it back up, I re-read it and realized it was AWFUL. SERIOUSLY, how did anyone read it!? **

**So I decided to re-write/re-vamp/edit them. But then I realized that just adding new things and editing things in existing chapters didn't really make it any better and it didn't help me develop as a writer, so I took it down and decided to COMPLETELY overhaul the story and it was just easier to delete the original story and re-post it. This chapter alone is roughly 1500 more words than it was originally. **

**That said, to anyone to read the story the first time it was posted: Welcome back! I promise you will not be reading the same chapters over again. **

**To those of you reading this for the first time: Lucky you! You don't have to suffer through the horrendous first posting. **

**Thank you for taking the time to read, and if you could also take the time to fill out the box down there *points down* that'd be great!**

**-(gxr)- **


	2. II

**- II -**

Variel blinked in surprise as light fell across the piece of parchment she was writing upon, and her eyes stung when she turned them to the window above her desk. Daylight streamed in cheerily through the glass, the intensity giving away the early time of the day. It meant that she had not slept as she had intended to the previous night. When Variel had returned from the tavern last night she had only intended to stay awake for another half an hour to jot down a few measures, unfortunately her ideas had run away from her as they tended to do.

With a sigh, Variel leaned back in her chair and stretched her hands above her head, catching a glimpse of the pile of crumpled up parchment in the corner of the room. She selectively ignored it, bringing her attention back to her slender hands as she turned them over. Black ink stained a good amount of both of her hands, it was clogged under her long nails, caulked in the creases of her palms and she was willing to bet that there were more than a few streaks smeared across her face.

_And yet_, she thought as she released a yawn, _through all the hours I didn't sleep, and the ounces of ink, and the wasted parchment I still cannot get this score done. _

Variel had been writing music for as long as she could remember and it had always been a part of her life. Some people wrote to express themselves, others painted, but it took something else to compose music - a different kind of love that went beyond a love for one's talent. It was more than putting a string of notes together that sounded pleasing to the ear, it had to have a story - a beginning, middle, and an end. It had to move something within the audience, make them feel something that they didn't understand. That's what Variel tried to do when she composed because if her own scores didn't do anything for her, they sure wouldn't do anything for the audience that might one day hear them.

So she found the fuel for her music from her own life, her own psyche. The only way Variel could understand and deal with her more heady emotions was if she could get them down on paper, organized into measures. She turned her anger into pulsing drums and deep chords, made sadness exude from soft violin runs and happiness ring from reverent flute harmonies. Music allowed her to express herself in a way that no other outlet could; she couldn't make people _feel_ her frustration with writing, or share her grief through speech.

She put her arms down, snorting with derision at the thought that an audience might one day hear her scores. She was no one, completely unremarkable – a simple island girl who took pleasure in the simple things in life. She never thought there was anything remarkable about her or the way she lived her life, though she was well-known in her hometown of Redhaven, mostly through her mother's reputation as a professor at the local university. Variel's days were filled with the smell of fresh bread and clouds of flour as a baker's assistant, and her evenings were filled with good-natured ruckus at the local tavern where she worked as a barmaid

When she allowed herself free time it was spent with her best friend, Auren, whom Variel had grown up alongside. Usually, the two would venture into the woods and swim in the lake or Variel would help Auren with his swordsmanship, and almost always regret it the next day when her body ached all over. While Auren possessed dreams of someday being a knight in the Narnian Army, for the time being he left that position to his father in order to look after his mother. He busied himself with a cartography apprenticeship under the local map-maker and took classes at the university, usually spending his evenings with Variel in the tavern to ensure that no one became too out of hand.

It was a simple existence and one that Variel was content with… at least that's what she told herself. She did not disillusion herself with dreams of opulent grandeur, or of being swept away in some grand romantic adventure like many young women her age. Variel dreamed simply of music and all she wanted to do was share it with the world. She wanted to share the songs she heard in the robust laughter of a tavern filled with good cheer, or the melody of a look shared between lovers.

But such dreams may as well have been the same unrealistic dreams of the foolish twits who hung themselves over Auren thinking that he was their knight in shining armor, and that he would lead them on the grand adventure they craved. Despite her confidence in the talent she possessed, Variel saw herself as utterly commonplace, nothing to look at twice, because she was nothing like her father. A composer himself, her father's presence demanded attention; he made people notice his talent, it was how he had become the conductor of the orchestra at Cair Paravel, making music for the entertainment of the Kings and Queens, and nobility. He was the only person who had ever seen Variel's scores, but she could not bring herself to ask him if he might show them to the royal family.

And so, Variel resigned herself to the fact that her lot in life would probably never change, yet still spent countless sleepless nights scribbling out scores for concerts that would never be held, and for instrumentalists that would never play them. And every time Variel finished a score, every time she placed it in the wooden box Auren made for her, her heart sank just a little. She wondered if perhaps it would be better to forget about the music in her veins and live a normal life, that she might learn to be content with the simplicity of her existence.

Turning off the oil lamp at the corner of her desk, Variel stood to pull back the curtains on the remaining windows flooding the room with light. She ambled over to the wardrobe stuffed into the corner of her small bedroom, kicking balls of parchment out of her path as she went. As she opened the door, Variel heard a knock at the front door of her cottage.

"Come in!" she called, pulling the tunic she'd slept in over her head.

She heard the door open and footsteps on the wooden floor until a person was standing in her bedroom door. "I'm surprised you're awake," they commented. Variel looked over her shoulders as she drew a clean frock over her head then pulled her sleeping trousers off underneath it. Auren leaned against the doorframe, smiling affectionately even when Variel stuck her tongue out at him.

Auren's grey eyes swept the room and the expression on his face gave way to one of scrutiny as he took in the balls of paper before returning his gaze to her, finally noticing Variel's ink-stained hands and tired eyes. "I see now… you didn't sleep."

Variel rolled her eyes as she moved past him, tying a sash around her waist as she went. Her home was small, a two roomed cottage on the edge of town that her father had purchased for her when Variel could no longer tolerate living with her mother. Small though it was, it was charmingly decorated and warmed by the fireplace.

She seated herself on the small sofa before the hearth as she reached for her shoes. "What can I do for you, Auren? Aren't you supposed to be in class?"

Auren hesitated a moment before he spoke, shifting his weight just the slightest bit in uncertainty. "Your mother sent me," he began, gauging Variel's reaction. When she did not say anything, he continued, "She wants to see you… she has a letter from your father."

Variel stopped cold at the mention of her father, her fingers stilling in the middle of tying a knot in the laces of her shoes. She had not spoken to her father for months and the mention of him now clenched her heart with the sudden intensity to see him, to hear his voice. He was only home every couple of months for a few weeks at a time, and every time he left to return to Cair Paravel, Variel would beg and plead to accompany him. But her father would not hear of it, and his reasoning was always the same: her mother needed her.

"You're sure?" she asked Auren.

He nodded. "Positive. She said the letter was for you."

Variel was off the sofa, out the door and sprinting towards the town before Auren could do anything to try and stop her.

**- (E & V) –**

Queen Lucy sighed in reverence as she sank down into the soft upholstery of the chair, watching the clamoring and shuffling on the stage as the orchestra members took out their instruments and set up their stands. This was one of her favorite things to do.

Three days a week, the orchestra at Cair Paravel would convene to rehearse and on those days, after lunch, Lucy would disappear to watch. She would sit in the very back of the auditorium so she wouldn't be a disruption or a distraction to anyone, and slip out before anyone noticed her. She couldn't stay away, loving the sound of the music as it drifted through the air, the tension it stirred in her chest and how her blood would pulse in time with the music. It was a way to relax, to get away from the stresses of her daily life. Susan would read or practice her archery, Peter would take his horse for a ride or go hunting, Edmund stayed holed up in the library or would sneak out of the castle to_ physically _escape. But Lucy just took a few hours of her day to the watch the orchestra practice.

The theatre within the walls of Cair Paravel was not very large. At only two levels complete with private boxes, it could accommodate perhaps three hundred guests. It was a perfectly adequate size for the use the royal siblings got out of it as they usually sponsored several seasonal concerts throughout the year. They invited noble dignitaries, politicians, and prominent members of society, both foreign and domestic, to these events in the hopes to promote better international cooperation and foreign relations. Because of this, rarely was the scheduled concert ever the main focus of these occasions. More often than not during these events, Queen Lucy usually found herself bored to tears as some flamboyant, puffed-up foreign dignitary talked her ear off, distracting her from the concert.

Once, Lucy made the mistake of asking the man speaking to her to please stop talking so she could enjoy the concert and that if he wished to discuss political matters there were better times and places to do so. Unfortunately it had been some some representative of the royal family of Archenland. The encounter had not ended well as the man had taken serious offense to Lucy's quiet request, and it had caused quite a_ ridiculous_ international scandal. Begrudgingly, Lucy had been forced to issue a public apology to Archenland's royal family and had to act relieved when it was accepted as if Archenland's royalty had done her a great favor by accepting the apology. And even after that, trying to get Archenland's cooperation with anything whether it was something as trivial as a trade agreement regarding Archenlandish silks, or as important as assistance for a relief effort when a hurricane ravaged the Narnian coast, was difficult for over a year.

Lucy hated politics.

The young Queen shook herself from her thoughts when she noticed Mr. Ballesteros come across the stage. For a man his size and age, he was surprisingly graceful, his stride languid and sure. From the moment the man entered the theatre, the orchestra immediately stopped talking; their conductor was the kind of man who never had to say a word for people to notice him. Mr. Ballesteros held himself with an air of confidence that Lucy had only ever seen Peter wear and even then, her brother's confidence could waiver, but the conductor's never seemed to falter.

As he reached his maestro's stand, Mr. Ballesteros adjusted the frames of his glasses and addressed his orchestra. "Good afternoon, everyone!" he greeted them cheerfully and received a chorus of the same greeting. He nodded approvingly before he led them in warm-up exercises, having them play scales and short folk songs.

When Mr. Ballesteros was satisfied that his orchestra was sufficiently warmed-up, he shuffled for a moment through the folder on his stand and said, "As you are all aware, our current project is the upcoming Harvest Concert. It is the smallest concert we usually perform in comparison to the Winter and Summer Solstice Concerts, but it is my hope that we can gain enough notoriety to attract a larger audience and top our performance from last year."

A round of murmuring approval moved through the orchestra members before their conductor was permitted to continue. "That said, the piece that I handed out that the conclusion of our last rehearsal will be our opening number, so if you could all get that out, we can begin."

There was a moment of shuffling as the members of the orchestra opened their folders and took out the required piece of music. They settled once again a few minutes later and they raised their instruments as Mr. Ballesteros raised his hand, complying with his silent command to begin. There was something different about Mr. Ballesteros today, and it did not go unnoticed to Lucy as she straightened up in her seat. It almost seemed as though he was keeping some great secret to himself, sharing a quiet joke with himself that no one else would understand.

After Mr. Ballesteros counted them in and the first notes of the song began, Lucy almost forgot to breathe.

From the first chord the music filled the empty air of the theatre, and for a moment Lucy feared that the doors would simply burst open because they were unable to contain the swell of the melody. The music became a physical thing in the room, Lucy felt it in her lungs every time she breathed, felt her heart beat in time with the percussionists. It was unlike anything Lucy had ever heard this orchestra perform, intense and powerful, but utterly tragic in its storytelling.

"Watch the key change," Mr. Ballesteros called out.

As the song continued, the young Queen found herself increasingly captivated by the music, hypnotized almost by the opposing haunting and lively tune. When the song ended, Lucy felt bereft of the effect it had on her, though she felt as if she had overcome some great feat. If that was the piece of music Mr. Ballesteros intended to use as their opening piece for the Harvest Concert, Queen Lucy was positive there would not be a single person speaking during the performance.

Lucy continued to watch the rest of rehearsal with the first piece still reverberating through her bones, still echoing in her mind while she tried to make sense of the catharsis swirling in her veins. Mr. Ballesteros had not written that score, Lucy was sure of that fact. She had listened to so many pieces written by him over the years that she could easily recognize the rise and falls, and more importantly, the stories his pieces told.

The Queen decided that she _had to know_ who the composer of that piece was. At the conclusion of rehearsal, instead of slipping out of the theatre as she usually did, Lucy squared her shoulders and made her way to the stage. The remaining orchestra members bowed as she passed, mumbling a polite _'Your Majesty_' as they did. She nodded to everyone, granting them a warm smile, a greeting, and polite personal inquiries as she walked by.

Lucy took a deep breath once she reached the edge of the stage, hoping to appear confident as she cleared her throat. "Mr. Ballesteros?" she called.

The composer startled a moment, surprised that someone was addressing him as his head darted up. He turned around and smiled widely down at the young Queen. "Ah, Your Majesty," he addressed her, holding out his hand politely to help Lucy up the steps. "What can I do for you?"

Suddenly, Lucy's nerves seemed to have gotten the better of her because she could not find the words she wanted to speak. Mr. Ballesteros was an intimidating man; tall with broad shoulders and sharp features, but the kindest eyes she had ever seen. It was the gentle smile curling his mouth that gave her the courage to breach the subject of her interest.

"I was just curious, the first piece you played today… you didn't write it." She said, resisting the abrupt urge to wring her hands together. It was not a question and Lucy was not asking for confirmation because she already knew it was true.

Mr. Ballesteros laughed, "So you have picked up on some things while you've been hiding in the shadows!"

Embarrassment immediately made itself known on Lucy's face when she felt her cheeks warm up. She thought no one had noticed! "Oh you don't mind do you? It's just that the orchestra plays so beautifully and I enjoy so much hearing them play."

"Of course I don't mind, My Queen, and I think the orchestra would be humbled to learn that you are such an avid fan of theirs," he told her. "But you're right, I did not write that piece, my daughter did."

"Your daughter? I didn't know you had any children," Lucy admitted, feeling quite stupid for not having known about his daughter. Year after year the man standing before her put together such lovely concerts for the entertainment of the nobility and yet, Lucy knew next to nothing about him.

The composer nodded. "Yes, but just the one, I don't think I could have kept up with more than that!" He laughed again, "Her name is Variel and she loves music probably more than I do. She is very talented."

And Queen Lucy made a decision right then and there. "I'd like to meet her."

The man's smile only grew. Mr. Ballesteros must have loved his daughter very much if the pride that emanated from his demeanor, and the way he spoke about her was any indication. "I'm sure she'd like that, but I feel I should warn you: Variel is a little… unorthodox."

Lucy's eyebrows knitted together. "Oh? In what way?" she asked.

This time, his smile shrunk, curling up only one corner of his mouth, and his eyes had a spark that was part humor and all mischief. "In every way, Your Majesty."

* * *

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and came back to this story! **

**For anyone who is curious, this chapter is about 1,400 words longer than the original. :) **

**Let me know what you think please!**

**-(gxr)-**


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